


I Saw You

by Imoshen



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Human Lucifer, M/M, Masturbation, Mentioned blowjob, Roommates, Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: Dean watches Lucifer. Until he gets caught. The results prove to be better than anticipated.





	I Saw You

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted to tumblr @mrsimoshen.
> 
> Written for the SPN Kink Bingo 2019 for the square "Roommates"

It’s late. The entire house around them is quiet, even Mrs. Hastings, who lives in the apartment above theirs and always forgets her hearing aids, and who loves watching animal documentaries. Dean learned shit about animals he didn’t even know existed, and all while eating breakfast, or lunch, or dinner, or just trying to damn well study. Sam’s regularly laughing his ass off, but then, Sam wins anyway when it comes to living situations. He’s got sunny California, and beautiful, amazing Jess.

Dean’s got Chicago, and while it’s sunny enough in the summers, he’s freezing his ass of in winter. (He ended up here because of a girl, and when the girl ditched him for the next poor bastard, he stayed because he’s a stubborn bastard.) And his roommate is Lucifer. Tattooed, pierced, sarcastic and smart bastard with his ice blue eyes and long-fingered writer’s hands and that smirk that is just a twitch of the lips away from his true, honest, warm smile, the one that turns those eyes warm, and…

Dean shakes his head sharply. He’s got Lucifer for a roommate, and he’ll never admit to his baby brother that he’d very much like to be more than a roommate to the punk. He’d never live the teasing down, for starters.

Dean twists onto his other side, seeks a cool spot on his pillow. He can’t sleep, and he knows why.

Lucifer received a package today, one he didn’t open at the kitchen table. Dean knows by now what that means.

He tosses and turns for a while, then gives up and quietly slips out of his bed, dressing again in a t-shirt with the faded print of a rock band on the front, and sweatpants. He needs to have a plausible excuse just in case Lucifer isn’t yet in his own bedroom.

Dean opens his door very quietly, holding his breath to catch any sounds from their apartment. There are none, so Lucifer must have already gone to bed. Dean inwardly curses, half hoping he’s too late, half hoping he isn’t. He creeps down the hallway to his usual spot, from where he can peer into the half-open door to Lucifer’s bedroom.

He isn’t too late, and he breathes a silent sigh as he settles in to watch.

 

This little addiction of his started almost eight months ago, and purely by accident. Dean couldn’t sleep that night, either, though for entirely different reasons. He’d had an important project due the next day and was still going over everything he’d done and written in his head hours after he’d finished and gone to bed.

He’d finally gotten up to get himself a mug of hot chocolate and stare out their living room window at the Chicago Skyline for a while to maybe shut his brain up, and when he’d crept down the hallway, he’d noticed there was still light in Lucifer’s bedroom.

Lucifer never closes his bedroom door, because as a kid, his Dad would lock him in if he’d done something to displease him – which, according to Lucifer, could amount to existing and breathing on some days – and he admitted to Dean during their first week sharing this apartment that he can’t stand being alone in a room with a closed door. Dean hadn’t minded, and still doesn’t mind. He knows a bit about childhood trauma, even if he’d never admit that out loud, either. (The smell of burning wood turns his stomach to this day, same as his Mum. They never had bonfires in their yard for that reason.)

On that particular night, Dean thought maybe Lucifer couldn’t sleep, either, and he stepped closer to the half-open door on silent feet with the vague intention of maybe sharing a hot chocolate in the living room in comfortable silence. He froze when he heard the tiny, breathed out moan. There was no mistaking that sound for pain, or fear, or anything but pure lust, and Dean doesn’t know to this day what possessed him to take that final step that allowed him to peek inside, instead of, you know, doing the sensible and proper thing and turning to walk away and leave Lucifer to his nighttime joys.

He hadn’t, even after peering through that doorway. Instead, he’d stood, hidden in the shadows and by the angles of door and hallway, and watched with wide eyes as his roommate stroked those long-fingered hands over skin decorated with ink and metal, played with pierced nipples (Dean knew about these before because Lucifer tended to walk around topless in the mornings) and finally slid down again to wrap around his cock – and there was metal there, too, glinting at the tip, and as Lucifer played with the piercing and made another of those low, incredibly hot noises, Dean swallowed his own groan and realized he was rock-hard in his sweatpants.

He’d crept back to his own bed with Lucifer’s moans still in his ears, bitten his lip as he jerked off to the memory of Lucifer’s hands and body, and he’d fallen asleep easily after that.

The guilty conscience had come the next morning with the cold light of early dawn, and Dean had hurriedly gotten ready and silently disappeared before Lucifer could get up and he had to face him and act as if he hadn’t jerked off to him the night before.

And it would’ve been a one-time thing, Dean had been determined that it would, no matter how much he wanted to know how it would feel to run his hands over Lucifer’s skin, how much he wondered if the inked skin would feel different or taste different if he licked… yeah, one-time thing. Only then, only a couple weeks later, Lucifer received a package with a generic sender name on it that Dean recognized (he’s a healthy adult male, buying sex toys is perfectly normal, thank you very much) and Lucifer had smiled in a certain way when he’d tucked it under his arm and taken it to his bedroom – and Dean found his resolve was weak, after all.

He’d lain awake that evening, listening to the sounds of Lucifer finally getting ready for bed – the man is a night owl and frequently stays up longer than Dean – and trying to convince himself to just nudge his door the final inch shut, roll over, and go to sleep.

He hadn’t. Instead, when the apartment fell quiet, he’d waited another five minutes, staring at the gleaming red digits on his alarm clock, and then he got up silently, dressed in t-shirt and sweatpants, and crept out of his room and down the hallway again.

That night, he very nearly came in his pants, watching Lucifer slowly rock back and forth on his hands and knees, fucking himself on the gleaming black dildo he’d stuck to the headboard. The punk was biting at his lips, then his forearm to keep his moans down, his face a vision of pleasure, and when Dean crept back into his own bed, all it took were three hard tugs on his own cock to have him come all over himself.

After that, Dean found he couldn’t stop himself anymore. Every couple of weeks, he’d leave his door open the tiniest bit when he went to bed and tiptoe down the hallway after Lucifer went to bed, and if Lucifer was touching himself, he’d stand stock-still in the shadows and watch, then jerk off in his own bed to the image of Lucifer, writhing and moaning under his own touches.

He started to notice other things about his roommate, too. How Lucifer was adorably fluffy-haired and bleary-eyed in the mornings before that first cup of tea, how easily those long-fingered hands wrapped around knife handles and pens, how that sardonic little smirk would sometimes morph into a true, amused smile when Lucifer was reading messages from his siblings.

 

So yeah, Dean’s got a little addiction, and sometimes he even feels guilty about it. But it’s only sometimes, nowadays, and usually when his Mom or Sam ask if he has found a nice girl (or guy. His family doesn’t care.) and he grins and tells them, nah, he’s enjoying being free as a bird.

Right now, his conscience is silenced by the vision in front of his eyes. Dean presses a hand against his cock through his pants as he watches.

Lucifer’s kneeling on his bed today, leaning against the wall. He’s changed the jewelry in his nipples, Dean absently notices – they were barbells this morning when he’d caught a guilty glimpse over his coffee mug, and now he’s wearing rings in them – and there’s a new tattoo covering the length of his right upper thigh, and Dean squints as he tries to make out the details beneath Lucifer’s caressing fingertips. It’s a raven, he finally decides, or maybe a crow, depicted in flight from above. The outer edges of the inked feathers brush his lower belly and his knee, and Dean wants to kneel between Lucifer’s spread legs and kiss his way over the fresh ink.

Lucifer’s fingers move further inward, and Dean swallows his moan as he realizes Lucifer’s other hand is already busy in fingering his own hole open. His fingers and the muscle wrapped around them are gleaming with lube in the light of his beside lamp, and Lucifer’s other hand cups his dick now, then loosely wraps around it. He’s not stroking it yet, just holding it as he apparently concentrates on the fingers sliding in and out of his body. Dean presses harder against his own dick, biting his lower lip. He hasn’t yet dared try that – he’s never bottomed for another man, never trusted anyone that far, but watching Lucifer, he kind of wants to know what that would feel like.

Lucifer moans, arching into his own touch, and Dean fights to keep his own noise down, watching with rapt attention as Lucifer pulls the two fingers out of his body only to push back in with three. _Fuck_ , Dean thinks, _I bet that feels amazing._

His hand slides into his pants without conscious thought as he watches, wraps around his own dick and begins to stroke in time with Lucifer’s strokes along his cock, into his body. In his fantasy, he dares take those last steps into Lucifer’s bedroom, dares to sink to his knees between Lucifer’s legs, and wrap his lips around that cock. He’s never blown a guy with a pierced dick before, but he thinks he’d like the sensation of the metal on his tongue.

He comes in his pants, over his stroking hand, watching Lucifer come on his fingers, all over his hand and belly, and fights to keep his breathing down.

 

Dean’s drinking his coffee the next morning, still half-asleep, when he’s startled out of his thoughts by long-fingered hands clamping down hard on his shoulders. Hot breath rushes past his ear, and then Lucifer murmurs to him, “you looked pretty hot last night, biting your lip like that. Didn’t have to, baby, I heard you. I saw you the last time, too.”

Dean splutters, tries to get up, but Lucifer’s hiding a surprising amount of strength in his wiry body, and easily presses him back down. “If I didn’t like you watching me, I’d have told you, baby. Relax.” A low chuckle that raises goosebumps along Dean’s arms and has him shiver. “Still, watching me without asking… naughty, naughty, Dean. I think you should make it up to me, hmmm?”

Dean breathes for a moment, incapable of doing anything else. He finally dares to glance over his shoulder at Lucifer. The punk is half-naked as usual, and his eyes aren’t icy, but glitter with warmth and amusement. He’s smiling, and that gives Dean the courage to breathe in and ask, “what did you have in mind, then?”

Lucifer blows out a breath and his grip on Dean’s shoulders flexes a little, and Dean understands – Lucifer took a dare on this, wasn’t entirely certain on Dean’s reaction, either. It makes the last bit of tension in him disappear, melt into beginning arousal low in his belly.

“Well,” Lucifer murmurs, nips at Dean’s neck and gives a little laugh at the shiver and the yip that gains him, “you were biting those pretty lips of yours last night… I think I want to find out what your mouth feels like around my dick, Dean.”

Dean’s breath hitches, and then he’s moving, ducking out from under Lucifer’s grip and pushing the punk against the kitchen table. He grins up at him as he sinks down to his knees, and the wide-eyed, happy expression on Lucifer’s face gives him the necessary courage to reach up and pull down the waistband of Lucifer’s sweatpants.

“Let’s find out then,” he tells his roommate – his lover? – with a wink. Lucifer’s moan, unrestrained and sexy, as he licks over the head is the best reward ever.

 

Later that day, stretched out in Lucifer’s bed and comfortably sore in places he’s never been sore in before, the punk a warm weight at his back and wrapped around him, Dean muses that just maybe, he won’t be alone next time he visits his Mum and Sam.

 


End file.
